Glasses
by Collie Parkillo
Summary: In all honesty, Pearson was sort of intimidated by Harkness. oneshot, Pearson/Harkness.


**Author's Note: You don't get this pairing? …Me neither. This is almost entirely written with headcanons because Pearson and Harkness get no love. Poor babies.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Long Walk. **

_Glasses_

Harkness couldn't see a damn thing.

Maybe it was the fact that the sky was slowly clouding over and sweat was beginning to drip in his eyes, but he was pretty sure it was his glasses. He took them off and began rubbing them on his sweatshirt.

"Hey," a voice said from behind him.

He turned around sharply. A short kid with messy brown hair had fallen into step behind him. "I have some spray if you need any."

"What do you mean?"

"Spray. Uh, for the glasses." Harkness noted that he wore glasses as well. This kid seemed nice, albeit a bit awkward.

"Oh. Thanks. What's your name?"

"Dave Pearson. You?" Pearson was quite a bit shorter than Harkness and had to take two steps for every one that he took.

"John Harkness. Can I have the spray?"

"Oh. Yeah." Pearson rummaged around in his backpack and eventually pulled out a bottle. "Here."

In all honesty, Harkness sort of intimidated Pearson. He looked like the type who'd mug people or something, what with his dark hair and tallness and the fact that he always looked like he was deep in thought. As Harkness finished cleaning his glasses, Pearson couldn't help but notice the way he blew his hair out of his eyes. It was sorta cute, actually.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," Pearson managed.

They walked next to each other for a couple minutes, not really saying anything. Harkness seemed to be taking in all of the details around him, almost as if he was trying to mentally describe it all in great detail. Pearson was alright with that, as long as Harkness wasn't looking at him he was completely alright.

Then, out of the blue. "Do I scare you?"

Pearson blushed. "A little."

Harkness looked up at the clouds, seeming like he was about to say something deep and quotable. "Why?" He didn't sound offended, just curious and slightly hurt. Ever since he was about fifteen, he'd been tall and somewhat foreboding looking, so he supposed that Pearson wasn't exactly unjustified in being a bit afraid.

"You could practically step on me if you wanted to."

"Do you think I would?" Harkness did that cute thing where he blew his hair out of his eyes again and gave Pearson a reassuring smile.

Pearson smiled back. "I guess not."

"Relax, Dave."

"I'm just a bit nervous about...well, you know." He gestured to the road ahead.

"Same." There were a few minutes of silence between them, both just stared off into the distance, thinking of the fact that they might perhaps die.

"Why are you looking at everything so intently?" Pearson asked.

"It's for when I write my book. After I win. I want to remember every last detail so I can write it down. I'll mention you in it, too."

Pearson's face lit up. "Do you mean that? I'd be in a book?"

"Yep." Harkness grinned. He didn't look quite as menacing when he was grinning, and his bangs had gotten into his eyes, giving him a somewhat wild look.

"Wow. That'd be super."

He didn't ask the question that was rising in his throat. _What if you don't win? _But Harkness was nice and seemed athletic and he wouldn't mind if Harkness did win.

_But then I'd be dead._

Pearson swallowed hard and pushed that throat from his mind. "You alright?" Harkness looked down at his walking companion, concerned.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"Are any of us really fine?"

Pearson shrugged, then considered what Harkness had said. He was right, really. "I don't think we'll ever be totally fine ever again after this. I've heard stories about it. People die pretty horribly." He adjusted his glasses, trying to make himself look less worried.

He felt a hand come to his shoulder and realized that it belonged to Harkness. "Relax. Don't think about that sort of stuff. You'll be alright." He smiled reassuringly and Pearson felt his heartbeat thump in his ears. Just hormones, he told himself.  
"Thanks, John." He walked a bit closer to Harkness, letting his arm brush the other boy's.

Harkness was still taking in everything. He wanted to write all about Pearson in this book, too. Short, blue-eyed Pearson who worried a lot. Pearson would be remembered, after all this. The boy in question looked up at him and without thinking, Harkness slipped his hand into his.

Walking next to each other on a cloudy day, they seemed like normal teenage boys. One thought hung in both of their minds like the clouds above, though.

_Why can't we all win?_

**Well...that turned out sadder than I expected. Sorry for how short it is. **


End file.
